Chains of Destiny
by Dra'Zekeria
Summary: Based on my D&D Campaign. Follows the main NPC as he aids the Group, Talons, The First PC Group in my world. Based on D&D, Forgotten Realms and Eberon campaign settings. Warning: I do not own the D&D stuff. I own Dra'Zekeria and the PCs and NPCs.


Chains of Destiny I stand in front of the enemy, scimitar drawn, waiting for them to rush me. I crack my neck muscles and spread my legs into a fighting stance. I am a predator. They are nothing more than rabid animals that need to be put down. I stare out at them from my deerskull helmet, with my leather and chainmail mouth covering hide my mouth. My jaw horns shine in the light. I am a creature better suited to the night. I shun the daylight. The sun looked better once. A very long time ago and so far away... I stand eight feet tall and my raven wings are folded behind me, covered by my loose black cloak. I keep my chest bare, so that my scars and tattoos show. I cover myself in my cloak when I don't want them to show. My raptorian legs are covered by my battleskirt. My feet have three digits, the inner one ends in a sickle shaped claw that I can use when I jump on an opponent. That is a very lethal surprise for my enemies. My clawed hands are more than capable of tearing flesh and metal from my opponents, while my arms are covered in metal arm guards. My natural weapons pale in comparison to my training, which pales compared to my mind. I trained myself in an ancient and forbidden fighting style. Ninjitsu. My only trainer was an old master that had died long ago. I am the only one the uses it. My mind is even more deadly than my martial skills. I can create psychic powers. I size them up. The one with the polearm, a halberd I believe, is wearing a suit of patched chainmail. A smallish man in dirty leather armor is covering his friends with a hand crossbow, no doubt covered in some poison. A half-elf in a chain shirt is wielding a light flail in both hands. A man wearing only pants, showing off his tanned body, which is slightly muscular and he is holding a staff. He is also brimming with magic. A sorcerer. I label my enemies as Halberd, Crossbow, Double Flail, and Staff. Hit staff first, take out crossbow, deal with double flail, finish with halberd last. Staff speaks up. "Let us through, scum, that little slut is ours. We have needs. We want some pussy, so we take it. I don't care if she has a brat, she is alone and we need a woman." He says as his compatriots behind him leer and snicker. "No. To get to her, you need to go through me. You don't want trouble. I am more than you can handle." I reply to staff. The woman behind me whimpers and clutches her child closer to her breast. "We have handled much more worthier opponents than you. We are going to chew you up. We are the Jaws of Death!" He says. "Don't choke on me then." I say. I loosen up and rush them. I focus my mind and use the focused energy to empower my scimitar, slashing into Staff. I split him from groin to neck. His blood gushes from the wound. I move on to Crossbow. He fires his weapon at me from point blank range. The bolt hits me, but I don't feel it. I slice his head off for his trouble. Double Flail tries to hit me, but I evade his attacks. I plunge my blade into his chest. He coughs up blood and falls down onto the road. I turn my head towards the fighter. I suddenly strike out at him, cutting through the chainmail, cutting him from his left shoulder blade to his right hip. I must have hit his lungs, because he is gasping and turning blue. I drive my blade into his heart, forever ending his misery in this world. "They choked." I say as I turn and wipe my blade on Double Flail's pants. I sheathe my scimitar. I collect what meager coin they had on their bodies. I pick up several precious stones. I pocket the spoils into my belt pouch as a town guardsman runs at us. He rattles in his chainmail and he kneels down. He soothes the woman and child. He gets up and looks at me. "Thank you for protecting my wife and daughter, Adventurer. I am in your debt. These ruffians were wanted for several brutal gang rapes and a murder. You can collect the reward. You did us all a favor." He lowers his head and mutters, "I can't even keep a roof over my wife's head. She still follows me around. Why?" Another guard runs up with a plump pouch, filled with coin. I take it and open it. It is filled with gold. I don't need it. I have no one anymore who needs me to support them. I hand the guard the pouch. He looks up confused.

"I have no need of this. Your family needs it more than me. I lost everything. I can't watch a family starve." I reach into my other belt pouch. I pull out a feminine ring. I clutch it in my hand and reach out to his own hand. "Take this ring and give it to your daughter. My debt is fulfilled. Your family ever has need of me, just clutch it and pray. I will hear it. I will always protect the ring's bearer. As soon as she hits the age of adulthood, the ring will only work for her. Until then, It will work for you and your wife. Use it for an emergency. I will come." I tell him as he takes the pouch and I open my hand and drop the ring onto his other hand. "Don't sell the ring. Keep it and give it to your daughter. That is my debt to you, that evens us. Goodbye." I walk away. He calls out as I adjust my cloak, revealing my wings. I open them and propel myself into the air. The guard calls out, "What is your name, outsider?" I turn around in midair. I look him straight in the eyes. "I am the One who has nothing left to lose." I fly off, leaving the small town behind me. Before I continue with my story, I need to clarify a few things. I am ancient. I am precisely 8000 years old at the date that I protected that mother and daughter. My whole race is dead. I am the only one left. I caused much devastation in my grief. I alone caused nations to die. I brought a continent into the ocean. All to soothe the emptiness in my soul. My woman had just told me that she was expecting our first clutch of babies when our world came crashing down. Invaders came and destroyed our way of life. My parents. My species. I was left for dead. My wife and unborn children were murdered. She died in my arms. Her last words were, "I love you." I became enraged. I tracked the invaders down. I slaughtered them and any who stood in my way. Some terrible ancient power had consumed me and used me to kill. At the end of that year I had destroyed a continent and many lives. I fled to my homeland. The only things left were me and the animals around me. Many call them Dinosaurs, I call them the Survivors. They survived my rage. I created a massive tomb with their help. They all helped me move the stones that sheltered the bones of my race. I placed my mate onto a slab in the heart of the structure. After I completed the tomb. I changed the Survivors. I had harmed the environment they needed to survive in. I altered them so they could withstand the coldness that had started to blanket the land in snow. They became suited to the environment and the vegetation that resulted. I let the power that had taken me over die. I refused to let it live. The Survivors continued to go on. I sheltered in a cave that I myself had hollowed and I called it home. Inside the cave was a pillar of black marble. I carved a throne out of it. I had managed to salvage books. I trained myself in the arts of one of the books. I left my land when I went in search of a master to teach me. I found the last one and he trained me. I learned all that I could from him before he died. He was the last one. No, I am the last one. Before he died, he told me that I was fated to live forever, until 7 good souls redeemed me. Some say that immortality is a blessing. It is not a blessing. It is a curse. Only the foolish want to live forever. You can't move on to the next great journey. I am separated from my species. I am alone. Alone and Immortal. I am truly damned for eternity. I am feared and reviled by many. My many names are, "Damned One, Nightstrike, Evil One, Immortal One, Lord of Hate, King of Terror, Destruction's Avatar, Dweller of the Dark, and Merciless one. Few species know that I am nothing like the stories anymore. 4000 years ago, a race came to the shores of my land, looking for a new homeland. They were driven out of their homes by people who fear them. They are a tribal people called Shifters, because they have the unique ability that allows them to become beastlike for a short amount of time. I took them in and helped them. 2000 years later, another race came seeking refuge. They were the changlings. They could assume any humanoid shape of their own size and a few smaller ones. 1000 years later, another race was driven onto my shores. These people are called the Darfellans. They are also tribal, like the shifters, except they are related to whales, not the ancient Lycanthropes. I protected them all. I found myself accepted finally by these people, but I knew that they were not the ones who could free me. I made forays into the other continents. I helped many people in need. It was about 200 years ago that I first sensed a power in the underdark. I felt it absorb many of the underground civilizations and I felt the Drow flee from it. I have watched the two main factions of the world begin a collision course towards destruction. The dark power beneath the earth is steadily growing, readying itself to strike. I am powerless to stop it. It drains my powers and feeds off of them if I get too close. I need to move on. I am no longer able to take this living for eternity. I want my woman. I want to be with her again. I am old and tired. Everything is out of control. Powers are making ready to tear this world apart. If it is torn apart, I am in deep shit. I would probably go insane. Enough back story, time to get back to my tale. Eight years pass. I decide to venture forth into the underdark to find out what this power is. I venture forth into the underdark. It took me three days to discover the horror that is roaming the underdark. The Duergar, Sarkrith, and Dark Ones have been enslaved to a huge undead army. That army is led by a Blackguard Cleric lich. I flee down the tunnels, farther down into the underdark, avoiding his undead army. It takes me another two years to get out. I saw many strange sights in those deep, dark tunnels and caverns. Those forbidding places prevented me from using my psionic abilities to escape. I could only focus my weapon and heal myself with my psionic powers. I encountered things without names. I fought those nameless things. I barely escaped with my life. I eventually ascended to the surface. I break to the surface and see my first sunrise in two years. I fly home. Another eight years pass before I sense the ring summoning me. My help is needed now. I start to say the ancient words. "Dar usche mallallak tok pacale yursk!" My claws glow with power and I slash them in an "x" slash in front of me. It rips into the very fabric of time and space, where few have ventured. All but me have died there. I can't speak of it to mortals. It can cause your heads to implode. I step through, into it. Istep out into a dank dungeon. The baby is now a young woman of about 18. I close my eyes and focus. She is a rogue. Her name is Yasina. She is imprisoned because she told a princling no to his sexual advances. She has been brutally beaten and whipped wit a scourge. Her back is still bloody. She is covered with only her hair and the remnants of her skirt. I sense that she was betrayed by someone who she cares for, deeply. The ring is on her finger, with evidence of it being messed with. They tried to cut it off of her. I unfocus and look up at her. I reach out and hold her chin up in my palm, raising it up. Her eyes are a spirited blue, with an inner fire burning inside. "Relax, Yasina. I pledged 18 years ago to help your family out. The debt shall be repaid now. I am the One who has nothing left to lose. Time for talking is done. I am getting you out of here." I grab the chains holding her to the wall, and I rip them out of the wall. I squeeze the chains near her hands, causing them to break in my grip. I cut the leg chains with my claws. The waist restraint is nothing more than a leather belt. I rip it off and grab her before she falls. I see and feel her back. It is bleeding and looks very painful. The only other person that has worse scars is, well... me. I take off my cloak, draping it around her. My Deerskull helmet is the only thing that I am wearing now, besides my battleskirt. I kick the door to the cell door down and walk out. 


End file.
